


A Star is Born

by AdmirableMonster (Mertiya)



Series: Kanó- and Nelyo and -Káno [6]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Conception, Double Penetration, Fluff and Smut, Gil-galad Son of Plothole, M/M, Mags and the no good very bad week, Pregnancy, Premature Birth, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Mpreg, but mae is very VERY present for the conception, genetically speaking gil is fingon and maglor's, so no concerns there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mertiya/pseuds/AdmirableMonster
Summary: Fingon is tired of everyone bothering him to have an heir.  It's not that he doesn't want a child--he just doesn't want to have a child with a nís.  Maglor suggests an alternative.Gil-galad's conception and birth, and the aftermath.
Relationships: Maglor/Maedhros/Fingon
Series: Kanó- and Nelyo and -Káno [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995166
Comments: 32
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to redbook peeps for listening to excerpts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conception of Gil-Galad, on a snowy, quiet night in Himring.

Fingon sighed with pleasure as he sank into the hot water of the hot springs.Maedhros immediately put an arm around him and tugged him closer, and Maglor watched the two of them, a little sleepily, but just lazily enjoying the sight.It wasn’t rare for Fingon to have the chance to visit Himring—and even less rare for Maglor—but there was just long enough between visits for Maedhros to get brooding and faintly miserable.Maglor thought he had never seen his brother happier than when they were both there, Maglor ridden down from the Gap and Fingon from Hithlum.

“I missed you,” Maedhros murmured, kissing Fingon slowly and deeply.

Maglor, with a mischievous grin, reached out and snagged his harp and started loudly playing one of his recently composed works, a bawdy, maudlin romantic ditty that was being sung in far too many locations for Nelyo’s taste.Nelyo gave him a baleful look.

“Káno, _please_.”

“I am only serenading this display of true love,” Maglor said innocently.

“Get over here,” Fingon told him with a cheerful grin.“I can’t crane my neck the whole time, and I want to talk to both of you.Well—” he pulled a face.“Mostly I want to complain to both of you.”

“Being the High King's Scion is exhausting you?” Maedhros asked, as Maglor set down his harp and stripped off his towel, heading over to join them.Fingon nodded, giving Maedhros the saddest expression and scooting into his lap.

“People have begun to fret about _heirs_ ,” he said, in a hushed and faintly horrified tone.“Heirs.Children. _My_ children.”

“Yes, that is typically what is meant by heirs,” Maedhros said, but despite his words, his voice was very gentle.“Ai, poor Finno.Are they throwing many _níssi_ at you?”

“So many,” Fingon agreed glumly.“I have danced more in the past few weeks than during my entire existence in Valinor, and it is not as if I did not enjoy dancing then.But I do not _wish_ to bed a _nís_!”

“If you must, I do not think either of us would take it amiss,” Maedhros said, curling his hand in Fingon’s dark hair and pulling him in for another kiss.Maglor shook his head in agreement.

Fingon kissed Maedhros long and slow and deep, their hands roaming across each other.Maglor watched, one hand tracing without urgency up his own inner thigh.They were both so beautiful, though Maedhros refused to believe it, and Maglor never told him so, for fear of hurting him.His long red hair floated in the water, and Fingon’s black curls mingled with it, one gold ribbon coming undone at Maedhros’s hand.Eventually, Fingon sighed and sat back.“I know you would not take it amiss—you would understand.But I still do not _want_ to.It is you I love—both of you—“ Maglor’s heart thrilled a little at that, “—and there is no _nís_ with whom I could couple without _feeling_ as if I were betraying you, though I know in my mind that it would not be so.”

“The only trouble is that you need an heir?” Maglor asked.“Does it matter who the other parent is?”

He watched as Nelyo’s eyes flickered to him, but his older brother did not interfere, only hid a smile, as Fingon shrugged.“I suppose not,” he said.“I would love to have a child, if only—”

“Then why not have me bear it?” Maglor asked. 

Finno’s eyes widened slightly.“ _Can_ you?” he asked.“I mean…”

“When I was young and spoke with Yavanna about becoming a _nér_ , she asked if I would like to keep the ability, and I said I would.”Maglor felt his ears going slightly warm, remembering himself as a little boy, critically comparing his own form with Fingon’s.“So I could do it for thee, if thou wished.”

Fingon’s eyes widened a little.“Thou wouldst _do_ that?” he said hoarsely.“Káno, if this is—I mean.To spare me a little inconvenience?” He laughed slightly, but it did not sound mirthful.

Maedhros looked at both of them curiously.“It would be the closest thing to—to a child of all of us,” he said softly.“I do not—I do not know if that is—desirable.Or—or _right_.”

“Russo, be quiet, thou art being stupid again,” Fingon told him fiercely and kissed him into silence.“I would—I would love that,” he said after a moment.“A child—I would like to have.A child with _thee_ and _thee_ —that would make my heart _sing_.”

Maglor’s heart constricted, and he slipped across the pool towards Fingon and kissed him awkwardly on the cheek.Fingon caught his shoulder and pulled him closer, and Maedhros put one long arm around the both of them.“Not in the hot springs, though,” Fingon said, flushed, his eyes twinkling brightly.“I have heard horror stories.”

“We could adjourn to the bedroom,” Maedhros suggested.“This is our second bath in the last few hours.”

They were both so beautiful it took Maglor’s breath away.“I’d love to,” he said recklessly, and Fingon turned, took Maglor’s hand, and kissed it, then kissed his mouth. 

Maedhros took both of them into his arms, nuzzling at Fingon’s neck, his left arm curling about Maglor’s waist.“Yes,” he said softly.“I want…” He went silent.Maglor went still as well.It was so rare for Nelyo to admit that there were things he _wanted_ —but Finno, dear Finno, took it completely in stride, leaning forward and kissing the tip of Nelyo’s ear.“Well?” he murmured, just loud enough for Maglor to hear him.“ _Go on_ , beloved.Tell us what you want.”

Maedhros’s voice dropped a full octave.“I want—us both—in Káno.I want him between us.I want you holding me.I want—“

Maglor swallowed, trembling.Fingon kissed Maedhros again, then him.“Well, there’s no reason we have to _wait_ , is there?” he asked recklessly.Findekáno Astaldo, the bravest Elf in Middle Earth, Maglor thought, trying out the line to see if there was a song it would fit into somewhere. _His voice will make you strong; his touch will make you valiant_.

They pulled on wet clothing and raced each other up the stairs to the bedchamber, laughing and dripping in a way they hadn’t done since they were young and in Valinor and someone had pushed someone else into the pond.Maglor thrilled to it, to the sheer carefree joy in the air, and the way that Maedhros took Fingon’s hand and held it, loosely, softly, happily.Maglor started singing his silly song again, and Maedhros grabbed him in a headlock and half-carried him, yelling in protest, the rest of the way up the stairs.

Inside of Maedhros’s bedroom, Maglor found himself pressed back against his brother as Fingon started to kiss him along the line of his jaw and down his throat.Maedhros held him snugly, leaning forward across him to kiss Fingon down _his_ throat, and Maglor gasped and whined.“My clothes are _sopping_ ,” he complained irritably, and Fingon grinned at him and cupped his cheek with one hand, while he ran the other through Nelyo’s hair.

“Is that all?” he asked, and Maglor leaned forward very deliberately and bit his lower lip in irritation.

“Ai, brat, must I always undress thee?” Maedhros asked from behind him.“Can thou do nothing thyself?”

“I _can_ ,” Maglor told him, with a grin.“But why would I go to the trouble when you and Finno are so very accommodating?”

Maedhros nipped at his ear.“Just this once,” he said in a low voice.“And only because you are doing Finno such a great favor.”

He pulled Maglor’s wet tunic off over his head.Fingon stepped back to pull off his own clothing.Smirking, Maglor let Maedhros pull his leggings down as well; then Maedhros scooped him up and went over to toss him onto the bed, where he bounced twice, lay back, and found he was grinning even wider at Fingon.

Fingon paused to kiss Maedhros again, then took his hand and brought him over to the bed.“You will want to remove your clothes as well, beloved,” he told him.“At least if you are still interested in your suggestion from before.”

Maedhros groaned softly.“You two will be the death of me,” he murmured.

Maglor rolled upright and tugged at Maedhros’s sleeve.“Not before you get into bed with us.”

His older brother gave him one of his rare, true smiles.“All right, brat.”As he began to disrobe as well, Fingon pinned Maglor to the bed and kissed him thoroughly.Maglor’s hands fell onto his shoulders and he pressed himself against the hard muscles of Fingon’s abdomen, Fingon’s cock sliding easily between his thighs.He moaned softly, but neither of them went further than rubbing themselves against each other, an unspoken agreement to wait for Maedhros.

When he had finished undressing, Maedhros settled behind Maglor, holding him steady, his large body and Fingon’s smaller one penning Maglor in between them.Maedhros reached out and caught Fingon’s braids with his hand, pulling him forward until their mouths met over Maglor’s shoulder, and Maglor was safe between them, their arms threaded about him, their warm bodies pressed against his back and front.

He wriggled between them as their kiss deepened.“I _am_ still here, you know.”

“Hush.”Maedhros stopped kissing Fingon long enough to smack Maglor’s rump sharply, then went right back to it.This lasted for about ten seconds, and then Fingon broke the kiss, laughing too hard to keep kissing as he pressed his mouth against Maglor’s throat.Maglor cried out incoherently at the warmth that shot through him at the flutter of Fingon’s breath.A moment later, he was laughing as well, as Maedhros’s big fingers ghosted across his ribs.

“Maedhros—haaa—don’t tickle me—”

“It might improve your manners to remember who’s in control here,” murmured Maedhros, nibbling at Maglor’s ear, but after a moment he relented and let his fingers drop, sliding them between Maglor’s thighs and rubbing circles that made his legs seize up and his head fall back.

“ _Nelyo_ —”

And then Fingon was kissing him, Fingon’s hands on his waist, Fingon holding him steady as Maedhros’s big fingers spread him open.“You’re definitely sure this is all right?” Fingon asked, brown eyes focused only on Maglor now.

Maglor nodded jerkily.“I want to,” he whispered.“For you and Nelyo both. _With_ you and Nelyo both.”

Fingon kissed him again, gently.“Káno.Thank you.”Then he slipped his own callused hands beneath Maglor’s thighs.“Can you lift your hips up for me?Let’s get you into my lap.”

Maglor nodded, jerkily.Not for anything would he have admitted to Finno that the last time he had let anyone put anything—where they were currently purposing to put, well, Fingon—it had been in Valinor.If he wasn’t using it to support his own cock, he’d rather not have anything there, but this was Fingon and Maedhros, he reminded himself, and it was for a rather special occasion.

Maedhros put a steadying weight on his right thigh.“Káno, do you need us to go slowly?” he asked, all seriousness now, and Maglor nodded again, still shaky.

“I want this,” he said again, in case Finno was getting worried. “But—it is a great deal of unusual activity.Slowly would be—appreciated.”

“As slowly as thou want.”Fingon smiled at him.“We have plenty of time, little cousin.”

“I am _taller_ than you!” Maglor protested, then stopped protesting as Fingon shifted him up a little, leaned forward, and worried at one of Maglor’s nipples, sending hot, desperate sensation spiking and arcing through him.“Ah—F-Finno—”

“Only by half an inch,” Fingon said in amusement, and tweaked the nipple with his tongue.Maglor found himself rendered speechless and only panted and moaned, grinding his hips against Fingon so that his head fell back against Maedhros.

“You’re doing well, brat,” Maedhros told him, sounding amused.“You’re doing so well.”

“Am I?” whimpered Maglor. 

“Mmmm.”Maedhros’s stump rubbed across Maglor’s lower back.“Do you still want what I said?” he whispered, just loud enough that Maglor thought they could both hear him.“Finno inside you in front and me inside you in back?”

“Haghk,” was all that Maglor managed at first as the image rose in his mind.Then, shuddering, “ _Nelyo_ , pleeeeaaaase—”

His brother chuckled.“Patience,” he chided.“We’ll have to get you ready for that, sweet little one.Or not so sweet.”

He loved it when Maedhros was like this—fully present.Lighthearted. _Here_.Safe.He would do anything—and he knew Finno would as well—to keep it this way.And he was _not_ patient about it, and just like that, his nerves and hesitation vanished.He went up on his knees.“Finno,” he said pleadingly.“If _you’re_ inside me, Nelyo will get inside me too, won’t you?” He looked back at his brother.

“Greedy,” Maedhros told him.Fingon’s hands went to Maglor’s waist.

“Whatever you want, little cousin,” he said.“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Yes, all right, I’m ready,” Maglor told him.“Slowly, as I said, but—still with forward motion.Please.”

“All right.”Fingon helped him reposition himself, quivering, so that they were pressed together but Maglor was holding himself up—lined up, but not joined.Maedhros leaned forward to kiss along the bumps of his spine, and then slip a few oil-covered fingers inside him from behind.Maglor gasped, and that was enough to make him twitch and slide down—just a little—just a bit—just _enough._ Fingon moaned, low and soft.Maglor’s hands tangled in Fingon’s hair, and he kissed him as he sank down. 

Maglor wriggled, reseating himself, letting himself get used to the unusual burn, as Fingon’s hands tightened on his hips.“ _Káno_ , you feel so good,” Fingon gasped.“Ai, Káno—”

“Mmmmhhh—” Maglor got out at first.“You’re—you’re inside me,” he said, quite inanely, and Fingon laughed at that and touched their noses together.

“I’m glad you noticed,” he replied.“I would have been rather perturbed if you had not.”

There was heat in Maglor’s cheeks, not all of it embarrassment.In response, he rocked his hips a little, pulling a lovely groan from Finno’s lips.His nails dug into Maglor’s thighs, and Maglor whined at the delicious sensation.

Maedhros chose that moment to press the stump of his right arm across Maglor’s throat and force his head back.“I’d have grabbed your hair but I’m afraid my hand is about to be occupied, brat,” he told Maglor.“You were asking, weren’t you?Are you ready?”Two large, slick fingers circled Maglor’s other hole.

“Y-Yes, Nelyo, Yes,” Maglor gasped breathlessly.

Fingon leaned back, tilting him forward to give Maedhros better access.Maglor put his hands on Fingon’s shoulders to brace himself, and then Maedhros’s fingers breached him, and he tried to make a pleased noise, but nothing really came out.“Oh, Russo, you’ve rendered him speechless,” Fingon said in a pleased, slightly breathless tone of voice.

“Already?” Maedhros asked darkly.“We’ve barely begun, little brother.”

“Very talented fingers,” Maglor managed.Then, biting his lip, “‘Sides, Fingon is helping.”

“Oh,” Maedhros purred, and Maglor loved when he was like this and Fingon was looking at him like that, dark eyes shining with pleasure and love, as if they were safely back in Valinor, or perhaps better—as if the dark hold of Angband over Nelyo’s mind was finally relaxing its grip and Fingon could see it.“Oh, it is because Fingon is helping, is it, Káno?”He twisted his fingers, and Maglor’s hips twitched desperately in response.Fingon gasped and thrust deeply, hand grasping at Maglor’s shoulder, then went still.

“N-Not too fast for you?”

“Not qu-quite—I’m— _aaaaahhh_ —Nelyo—I want—I want—”

“But you’re falling apart from just this,” murmured Maedhros.“Do you think you can take any more?”

“Anything,” Maglor sobbed.“For both of you. _Anything_.”

“Beg for it,” Maedhros told him, nibbling at his ear.“Beg us both to take thee like a little slut, sweet brother.”

“And you call _me_ a brat,” gasped Maglor.He leaned forward, rocking up and down on Fingon’s cock, listening to Fingon’s breathless moans.He was growing more used to the forward intrusion, and while he might not want to do this every night, for the time being it felt _fantastic_. 

Maedhros pushed his fingers in deeper, and slightly repositioned the other two so that his cock slid along the underside of Maglor’s thighs.“Beg,” he said again, licking a stripe along Maglor’s neck, then, hoarsely, “Ai, Finno, look at you inside him.I love to watch you fall apart.”

“I want to see you fall apart, too,” gasped Fingon.“Both of you. My brilliant, beautiful pair of brothers, how did I ever get so lucky?”He cupped Maglor’s cheek with his right hand and Maedhros’s with his left.“Káno,” he murmured.“You know how stubborn your older brother is.Beg, won’t you?I want to see this.”

Maglor’s breath hitched in his lungs at the tenderness in Fingon’s eyes.“Yes—yes, all right, yes— _please_ , Nelyo, please take me, _please—_ ”

“That’s better,” Maedhros told him firmly.His fingers slipped out of Maglor, who whined in protest, and he replaced them, almost immediately, driving himself inside swiftly and not quite too roughly.Maglor’s breath _caught_ , his world spinning, his body going limp and prickling heat washing across his skin.

“I felt that,” gasped Fingon.“Oh, _Russo_.” 

Maglor pressed his face into Fingon’s shoulder to steady himself, for all the good it did him.His mind was reeling at the sensation of Finno and Nelyo both inside, front and back and— _oh_ —his body jerked, warmth catching him and dropping him into a place that was nothing _but_ —flooded and filled and safe and—

“Did he just—”

Lips on his ear.“Russo, are you really surprised?”

Nelyo’s voice grunting.“Ai—a little.What a good boy, though, aren’t you, Káno?”

 _Oh_ , Nelyo was calling him good.It was the only thing he wanted right now, that and the pleased, desperate noises Finno was making as he continued to thrust into Maglor’s very pliant body, and the way they were embracing one another with him between them, and—

And they were kissing again, over his shoulder, sloppy and lovely, and Finno turned Maglor’s head over to awkwardly half-join, though it was less a three-way kiss and more Maglor’s nose in between while Finno’s and Nelyo’s mouths connected.And Fingon and Maedhros were continuing to move relentlessly, pushing Maglor’s body back and forth between them, almost as if they were rutting against one another.Maedhros’s big hand spread across Maglor’s stomach; he nipped sideways at Maglor’s mouth and then said to Finno, “That is—”

“Ai— _Russo_ — _Káno_ ,” gasped Fingon, his own hands falling to Maglor’s hips and tightening as his thrusts stuttered slightly.Maglor was overstimulated but it felt so good.“Finno— _Nelyo_ —you feel _amazing—”_ he sobbed, his hands clutching at Fingon’s shoulders.Maedhros said nothing; his hand tightened across Maglor’s belly, and his stump he raised and pressed to Fingon’s lips.Fingon’s eyes opened, wide and blown dark, and he shuddered, and he was wordless too as he drove into Maglor again—as they both did—

Maglor felt it when Maedhros climaxed—in _flame_ and _fire_ and the heart of a volcano reaching towards the sky—Fingon answering him in stinging wind and the billowing majesty of a storm—and Maglor was there between them, the ocean that surged to catch both and bind all three together—

All three of them collapsed into a sweaty heap, with Maedhros at the bottom and Fingon on top of Maglor, still twitching inside him, still murmuring something soft and inaudible as his seed took root. (And how did Maglor know?)

“What _was_ that?” Maglor asked, in a hushed voice.“You did—both—feel that?”

“Yes,” Fingon answered, all in a rush.“I have heard tales of _osanwë_ from Grandfather, but I did not know that it could be like that.”

“Nor did I,” Maedhros agreed, throwing an arm across Fingon.“Káno, do you know—”

“It worked,” Maglor cut in.“I don’t know _how_ I know, but there is—” He wormed a hand between himself and Fingon—not terribly easy, since they were now starting to adhere to one another, “—there is a spark inside me?” he said hesitantly.“Like…like a little star.Not quite _coalesced_ yet, but—it is there.”He swallowed.“The child is there.”

“Oh, Káno.”Fingon pulled himself upright, carefully disentangling himself just enough to reached out and put a hand onto Maglor’s stomach.“Oh, Russo.I love both of thee so much.So, so much.”

“We love thee, too,” Maglor murmured.Maedhros said nothing—he was quieter, now, than he had ever been before it all—but he reached out to twine one of Fingon’s braids about his fingers and brush his hand along Fingon’s cheek, and, leaning forward, he kissed Maglor’s cheek softly, as chastely as he ever had in Valinor.Maglor settled contentedly back into his brother’s arms, and Fingon laid himself down beside them, curling against Nelyo’s side.“Ai, well,” he said, breaking the spell of wonder with a cheerful grin, “perhaps now that we have created our little Ereinion,"—here he pulled a face and Maglor and Maedhros chuckled—"my councilors will cease their harping.”

“And I shall begin mine,” Maglor returned, equally cheerfully. 

Maedhros grunted and bit his neck.“I am sure you will, brat.” His hand moved ceaselessly in Fingon’s hair.“I am sure you will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maglor goes into labor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was originally going to make these separate fics in the series, but I think this and the next bit all work as part of the same fic, since they're all related to Gil's conception and birth and the immediate aftermath.

Maglor was certain he must be dreaming.He was seated in the window-seat of his own bedchamber, staring at his own body writhing in the bed and crying out.Hemmoril stood beside him, and Nimruzimir the Mannish healer beside her.

“It is too early,” Hemmoril said, in a low, clear voice.

“Aye,” agreed Nimruzimir.“But it is happening for all that.And I do not think he is even conscious.It will be a long night.”

A gentle hand rested on Maglor’s shoulder as he frowned and started to rise.Turning, he saw a slender Elf with long, silver hair and his own father’s piercing dark eyes.“Who are you?” he asked.“Why are you here?”Then, for good measure, “What is _happening_?”

The twist of amusement in her smile also recalled Fëanáro.“In reverse order, Gold-cleaver, thou art giving birth to a child whose soul is made of three parts; I am here because I have done it and I have no wish for thee to fade as I did; and my name is Míriel.I wish that I had met thee in another time and another place.”

“ _Haruni_?” Maglor gasped at her.Then he blinked.“ _Three parts_?”

Míriel snorted and ruffled his hair.“The conception occurred with three participants, did it not?”

“I—I mean.”Maglor felt his face going red.“I am just a conduit,” he mumbled, “It’s Finno and Nelyo’s baby, really.”

“Oh, hush thy nonsense.”Míriel nodded to the scene in front of him, to the disconcerting and dizzying vision of Maglor himself screaming on the bed while Nimruzimir fed him something from a dark glass bottle and Hemmoril stood mute and fearful, letting his white-knuckled hand clutch hers.“What would thy brother and thy cousin say if they heard thee talking like that?”

Maglor shifted uncomfortably.“Well…” Maedhros might get angry at him.Fingon would just get that very _sad_ look on his face.So of course Maglor wouldn’t _tell_ them, but—perhaps he should think about this a little more carefully in future.“I’ve simply never heard of a baby whose _fëa_ was of three parts instead of two.”

“Hast thou not?” Míriel asked, with an amused look on her face.“Ai, that is all very well, but it is happening to thee all the same.Open thine eyes and attend to thy child’s birth.I will remain beside thee.”

Maglor blinked his eyes and found himself on his back in the little bed, his insides wracked with pain, the sensation of Míriel’s hand in his hair still lingering.

“Back with us?” Nimruzimir said.“That’s well.Soon we will need you to push, my lord.”

It was like someone had lit a fire in Maglor’s belly.He moaned—the world felt as if it were tilting.The thing inside him seemed to be clawing, heavy, impossibly momentous.He was suddenly, terrifyingly convinced he was about to die—burning, in flame, in ash—

“I can’t,” he choked out.“I will _die_ —I—”

“Ai, it takes many women like that,” Nimruzimir said, with an appalling cheerfulness.“You’ll be fine.”

“I am not a _woman_ , nor am I a _nís_ ,” snarled Maglor, and then trembled as another wave of pain washed through his body.

“Well, I haven’t been at as many births of folk other than women, but I expect it’ll take you the same.”Nimruzimir took his hand.“Try to breathe steadily for me, won’t you?”

Maglor sucked in a ragged breath, tried to steady it, and failed miserably.He glared at Nimruzimir, but before he could do much else, the fire set him alight again, and he was screaming. 

Some distracted part of Maglor that could think between the pain reminded himself bitterly that if he died in fire and flame it would be only justice.He could recall too easily the feeling of power of wielding such fire, of a flame held tight in his hand and eager, greedy violence in his chest, trembling at such power—fearful but pushing past that fear, because it was what his Atya told him to do.

The look on Nelyo’s face as the ships burned.Maitimo had grabbed Makalaurë’s wrist and tried to hold him back.

“What are you doing?” Makalaurë demanded.

“What are _you_ doing?” Maitimo countered, his voice low and angry and laden with some kind of deep despair.“What are all of you doing—for Eru’s sake, Makalaurë, _think_ —that is your _family_ back there—”

“Will you not follow our father?” Makalaurë spat.“The one who has raised us, cared for us, _loved us_ —you made the Oath for him, just as I did!”The father who accept Makalaurë as his son immediately.

Maitimo’s green eyes were full of pain.“Please, Káno—think of—think of Findekáno—think of Findaráto—”

“They will return to Valinor.They will be _safe_!We are the ones in danger, Nelyo—what kind of coward are you?”He had torn his hand away and followed his father, but even then the words had burned his lips.Yes, Maglor thought, and the vision of Finno’s poor frostbitten ear rose to his eyes—yes, he deserved to die in flame.

_Hush your nonsense, Makalaurë.What would Finno say?_

Maglor moaned weakly at the sound of his grandmother’s voice.What _would_ Fingon say?Maedhros?Nelyo, at least, had intended to be here for the birth.Too early, Hemmoril had said; yes—too early.His mind was still clouded with sleep and pain.“Hemmoril,” he rasped.“The child—will the early birth harm the child?”

His steward took his hand and pushed his sweaty hair back from his face.She looked over at Nimruzimir.

“Don’t worry,” the Mannish healer said.“Keeping the baby well is my business.Just you focus on pushing, my lord.”

Maglor opened his mouth to object, and his grandmother’s soft voice spoke again. _Listen to the healer.This is his business, little one.Push.I’m here.Push._

Push.Maglor gritted his teeth and tried.It hurt.Everything hurt.The baby was—oh, he didn’t understand.Why?Why was this so difficult?

“My lord! _Breathe_!”Hemmoril, sounding far more frightened than Maglor had ever heard her.

_Steady.Breathe in, push.Did you expect childbearing to be so simple, Káno?_

He sobbed, trying to obey the instructions.Maedhros was supposed to be here.He wasn’t supposed to be alone like this, but he could not send for him, not with the growing danger along their borders.He was here, and he must do this.He had no choice.His body spasmed, and he suddenly thought he understood and tried to breathe in, breathe out— _push_ —

“Good, my lord, very good,” Nimruzimir told him.“Is this his first?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hemmoril said.

“Then this may take some time, I am afraid.”

Maglor ground his teeth again. _You will not fade,_ his grandmother told him, and he nodded, breathing, pushing, _breathing_ —

He had too many responsibilities.He had too much to do to die.Maedhros would never forgive himself, and Maglor didn’t need his older brother to feel guilty about anything _else_.

_Breathe._

_Push._

_Breathe._

* * *

He had lost the sense of his grandmother sometime moments ago as the Sun dipped beneath the horizon.But he had gained another sense—the feeling of another _fëa_ in the room.

“Just about there—head’s crowning,” Nimruzimir said.“You’re doing very well, my lord.”

“Oh, _Eru_ —” Maglor choked.“ _Hurts_.”

“So I hear, but you’re almost done.Just a little more— _there_ , very nice.”

The sound of a smack, and the baby cried softly, high and querulous. “Fine-looking little one,” Nimruzimir said, lifting him.“Do you have a name for him, my lord?”

Maglor stared helplessly at the tiny, naked, freckled scrap of life in Nimruzimir’s arms. _No mother_ , he thought.He’d meant to talk that out with Maedhros, but Maedhros wasn’t here, and the only name he had on his tongue was nothing more than a dark joke between the three of them.“Ereinion, I suppose,” he croaked.

Somewhere, far away, he thought he heard his grandmother’s silvery laughter.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gap is besieged.

Maglor woke to screaming, and it was not the screaming he had hoped to wake to.“Ereinion?” he asked tersely.Hemmoril stood by his bed.“The child is not harmed,” she told him.“The Gap is besieged.”

“Damn,” croaked Maglor.The timing of this was so awful he almost feared it could not be coincidental.“We cannot get him to Hithlum, can we?” 

“It’s doubtful,” Hemmoril agreed.

“Himring, then.”Maedhros could get the child to Fingon if anyone could.“Put—who do you think is our most cunning rider?”

“Hwinior,” Hemmoril said, after a moment’s thought; Maglor considered this, then agreed.

“Put Hwinior upon Surétal, give Ereinion to them and tell them to ride for Himring and to stop for nothing, no matter what.”He heaved himself wearily out of bed, noting with irritation the blood upon the sheets.

“Where are you going, my lord?”

“To defend my Gap.”

“My lord.”Hemmoril laid her hand upon his arm.“I am not sure—that is.They say that Glaurung has come.”

Weary as he was, Maglor could not control his shudder.But he was the commander of the fortress and her cavalry, and there was no one else.Finno was not here.Nelyo was not here.It was only him.“Then I suppose I am going to fight Glaurung,” he said after a moment.

* * *

“The little brother,” mused Glaurung.The sunlight gleamed brightly on his golden scales.“The shadow child.The singer, who tells the tales of others and does not perform the deeds himself. _Thou_ thinkest to challenge me?”

If his scales were golden, his voice was silver.The rich reverberation of it coiled around Maglor, twisted him up with bindings of weariness.He could feel his eyelids drooping.It was all he could do to let his heavy hand fall hard upon the strings of his traveling harp, in a discordant clash of angry notes.The noise jerked him awake and he pulled the harp to his breast, opening his mouth to sing.

He did not sing well.His voice was still thin with exhaustion from the previous day’s exertions, and he had ridden hard to get here.But he sang, his wavering song growing in strength as he steadied his harp; across the battlefield, his folk awoke from their stupors and raised their swords again. 

“Oh, put thy harp down,” Glaurung grumbled.“No one wants to hear thy stupid little ditties, Káno.” 

Maglor missed a note with horror, because that was _Nelyo’s voice—_ and it was only the practiced movement of his hand on his harp that kept the music going, kept the grey despair at bay—but only barely.His singing continued.His people kept fighting.

And now Glaurung turned towards him, as if only now did he consider Maglor enough of a threat to bother regarding at all.Those gold eyes glittered like the rest of him, as he opened his jaws, and Maglor could see the gleaming red fire within, flaring to light at the base of his gullet.He raised his fingers and brought them crashing down in yet another powerful chord, breathing in his own deep breath.

Kanafinwë Makalaurë’s song met Glaurung’s fire in the battlefield between them and like water splashing upon water both were turned aside.

The dragon shook his immense head irritably, like a dog bothered by a flea—or perhaps a squirrel, Maglor thought giddily, with mounting terror.He could feel the heat of the flames ahead, and he could see the sunlight shining brightly on those terrible teeth. 

Glaurung’s jaws snapped shut again, and he reoriented more strongly on Maglor, who kept singing, because there was nothing else he could do now.The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and he sniffed at the air. “I smell blood,” he hissed.“The smell of blood and the birthing room lie heavy on thee, Fëanorion.Where is the little one?After I have cooked the flesh on thy bones, it will make for a sweet dessert.”

Maglor shuddered, mentally tracing the speed at which Surétal could run.Eru willing, Hwinior would have ridden down the river, and there would be no way to trace the two of them.Glaurung laughed as Maglor continued to sing, stalking in a wide circle around him, all his attention now fixed on his new prey.

“And whose child _is_ it, I wonder?I have never heard tell that Maglor Fëanorion has taken a spouse.The blood that stains thy thighs is all thine own.Hast thou coupled with thy brother and made a twisted bastard, the shadow of thine oath magnified and manifest?”

 _Keep singing._ Maglor’s voice soared high and untroubled, his fingers still flying across the strings.No matter how that soft voice whispered, no matter how uncomfortably _close_ to the truth it spoke—Ereinion’s conception was not an ugly thing, Maglor responded ferociously.The baby was Finno’s child most of all, and not Finno nor Nelyo nor Káno would have endangered them by bringing too-close seed and egg together.But Nelyo had been there, all the same.

“No?” Glaurung paused, displaying all his teeth, opening his mouth in a gurgling laugh.“Then perhaps you wish to hear of your child’s fate, songbird?”

Maglor barely forced numb fingers to move, as the fear suddenly threatened to consume him. _Don’t listen, it’s a trick—it’s only another trick—_

“Ereinion will _burn_ ,” hissed the dragon.“His life will gutter out like a candleflame on a useless battlefield, for his enemy will die no true death.He will die in pain and fear, and his loved ones will watch and be able to do nothing.”

Maglor’s voice was choked and high, but still he sang, though he heard the truth of prophecy ringing in the dragon’s voice, and his vision was blurred with his own tears.

Glaurung laughed again.“The child will die like the father,” he crooned—Maglor’s flailing fingers struck a wrong note, and his voice faltered—“and you, Maglor Fëanorion, _you will live to watch it all_.”

A sob cut through the song, disrupting the rhythm and the melody of it.The second sob caught in Maglor’s throat as he fought it, trying to regain the song, but his fingers fumbled into a jangling unpleasant discord.Glaurung smiled and opened his jaws—

This time, nothing stopped the flames he breathed from reaching Maglor.

* * *

Maedhros waited.

He did not know what he was waiting for, but he knew it could be nothing good.Hwinior had arrived in the late morning on the back of Maglor’s swiftest horse, bearing a tiny infant.They had been shaken out of bed in the early morning and told nothing but to ride for Himring as swiftly as possible, which bespoke a lack of time for anything else that made Maedhros shudder as he considered the alternatives.The child—Ereinion, Fingon’s joking words at his conception still apparently being used as his name—was tiny.He could not have been born more than a day or two ago, and he cried and screamed and squirmed desperately.He should never have been subjected to a hard ride, and in any case, he should have been sent to Hithlum.That Maglor had made the decision to send him here, to Himring, boded exceedingly ill.

Maedhros occupied his time by desperately trying to find a wetnurse, finally managing to track down a woman in a nearby Mannish village who had just had twins and was willing to relocate to Himring on extremely short notice.She turned out to be a cheerful presence, who, to Maedhros’s intense relief, immediately began to treat Ereinion exactly like one of the other two children, performing a juggling act that he found quite incomprehensible as she swapped children rapidly between her breasts.

Just as Maedhros was beginning to feel as if things were under control, the guards on the walls called out.Dread pooled in Maedhros’s stomach as he saw the small band of riders approaching—Hemmoril, Maglor’s steward, in the lead.There was mud and blood on the horses, and Hemmoril had someone on the saddle in front of her, but it could not be Maglor, Maedhros thought, because his hair was not that short—

He met the riders in the central courtyard, where they were already calling for healers.Hemmoril, a sturdy Elf with nerves of steel, called out to him as he came out of the main entrance. “Get the healers,” Maedhros snapped, hurrying to her side, and then stopping, with a little half gasp as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs by a violent blow.

It _was_ Maglor, his hair shorn raggedly near his scalp.No, Maedhros realized, with another awful jolt, not shorn— _burned_.Half his face was red and swollen so it was almost unrecognizable.“Can you take him?” Hemmoril asked.Maedhros put out his arms.“Be careful,” she continued.“I think several ribs are broken.”

“What happened?” Maedhros whispered, appalled. 

It was Maglor himself who answered, his beautiful voice turned into a rasp-like croak, his dark eyes fluttering as Hemmoril handed him gently down.“Glaurung came,” Maglor mumbled through swollen lips.“The Gap has fallen.I could not—I could not hold it.”He coughed, his breathing harsh and obviously painful.

Glaurung.Maedhros stared at his younger brother numbly.“I’m sorry,” whispered Maglor, coughing again, then, with an obviously painful attempt at a smile, “Are you still proud of me, Nelyo?Please—say—say I have not let you down so badly that—”

“Of course I am still _proud of thee_ ,” gasped Maedhros, hurrying back towards the fortress with his precious armful.The healers—where were the healers?

Maglor smiled again.“Am I dying, Nelyo?”

“No,” Maedhros told him.“Of course not, we’ll—the healers—“

But then he paused because Maglor’s face— _fell_ —in sudden pained panic.“I feel…dying,” he mumbled.“If I die—if I die—please.It won’t be true.”He was shaking in Maedhros’s arms, sobbing now, and Maedhros had to stop because his brother was thrashing so hard he thought he would drop him.“ _I can’t let it be true!”_ Maglor sobbed, and if the healers had not arrived just then, hurrying down the hallway and surrounding him—Maedhros did not know what either of of them would have done.

* * *

Maglor woke slowly.His lungs ached, and the skin of his face and arm was distantly, pricklingly painful.He couldn’t quite seem to remember why, but he was certain something terrible had happened.He groaned, struggling to sit up, and a familiar pair of hands pushed him back down.

“Don’t,” Fingon said gently.“Don’t, Káno, you need rest.”

“Finno?” Maglor asked, his voice coming out as dry as gravel.“Where is Maedhros?”

“Asleep in his room, where I took the liberty of sending him because he had not slept once since your arrival.”He took Maglor’s hand.“The danger is passed now.”

“Danger?”He was so tired.

Fingon interlaced their fingers.“The healers were not sure that you would survive,” he said softly.“When I arrived they had all but despaired of your life, and Russo—Russo was at your side with our son, hoping that somehow you would hear him, if you could hear nothing else.”

 _Ereinion._ “Is the baby—” And he heard Glaurung’s silvery voice echoing in his head as clear as a bell _, The child will die like the father, and you will live to see it all_.“No,” Maglor said.“Oh, no, no.”

“Shhh.”Fingon was at his side in an instant.“Hush.You are still weak.”

He could not _tell_ Fingon.He could not tell him of the ringing truth of the prophecy he had heard in Glaurung’s words. _The child will die like the father._ Which father—Fingon or Maedhros?Maglor gritted his teeth against the pain and caught at Fingon’s hand.“Finno,” he whispered.“Please may I hold Ereinion?”

“Of course, beloved.”Fingon kissed his forehead gently.“I will fetch him for you—and Maedhros, as well.He will want to know that you are awake.”

“Yes,” Maglor said.“Please.I want to hold all of you.”

Fingon gave him a tender, deeply worried glance and hurried out of the room, to return within moments, with a clearly sleepy Maedhros in tow and the baby in his arms.

“Káno,” gulped Maedhros.“Oh, my sweet Káno—I thought—” He bit off the words and simply sat on the bed.“Art thou well enough to be held?”

“He isn’t, really,” Fingon said, worriedly, “But I think we must hold him for all that." 

“Please,” Maglor said.“Oh, please, please—” reaching out his hands.Nelyo threaded his fingers into one and then slid his right arm behind Maglor, very gently drawing him into his lap.Fingon sat beside them, cradling Ereinion, who lay in his arms and cooed softly, then reached out and grasped a lock of Maglor’s hair.

Maglor’s eyes welled up with tears.“Oh, little one,” he croaked.His voice was raw; his lungs were painful.If it hadn’t been for everything, he might have regretted the possible damage to his vocal cords.But as it was he could only regret that the fact that he still lived meant the prophecy might be a true one.He could still hear the ring of it in Glaurung’s silvery voice.

Ereinion gurgled delightedly and kicked his little feet.“I hear thou gave him his…” Here Fingon halted in some confusion.“His first name,” he finally compromised on.

Maglor nodded shakily.“I am afraid he has been named after our joke,” he said, with a weary smile.“I thought—he came so early, and I am not sure but that I was half out of my head.”His memories of the birth were clouded and difficult for him to access.And he did not want to, because he did not want to keep thinking of what had just happened.

“Well, he is healthy and safe, at any rate,” Fingon said.“And such a name will at worst only be seen as solidifying his claim to the throne, which is what all my advisors wanted.Thou hast done well, Káno.”

“I only did what had to be done,” Maglor said softly.

Maedhros squeezed his hand.“That is all anyone can ask,” he murmured.“Little brother.Thou art safe, and so am I, and so are Finno and the little one.”

For now, Maglor had to admit that was true.For now, he was too weary to do any more than cuddle into his family’s arms and let Nelyo and Finno hold him, while their son— _their son_ —cooed and chuckled in their arms.There would be time to deal with the rest later.

And prophecies—prophecies could be subverted.Surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! :)


End file.
